The heavy silence Brodie left behind was almost as loud as his chaotic exit.

Eleanor Finch, the housekeeper, moved with silent efficiency, dispatching staff to deal with the carnage on the lawn as if manicured acts of destruction were a daily occurrence.

Avery took a shaky breath, forcing the adrenaline back down. She had to regain control.

She turned to face Joshua, pasting a smirk on her face. "Your brother's temper..." she said, her voice a little too bright. "Not great."

She was trying to deflect, to gauge his reaction.

He wasn't smiling. His ice-blue eyes were narrowed, studying her with a new, calculating intensity. The polite restraint was gone, replaced by cold suspicion.

"Explain the kiss, Ms. Hopkins," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Avery's stomach clenched. She knew this was coming.

She shrugged, leaning back into her role. "Improvisation. You said to provoke him. I couldn't think of anything more effective."

"That was not the way I told you to do it." His voice was colder now. "I told you not to touch me."

He took a step closer, crowding her against the door. "Are you enjoying this a little too much? Or is there something else going on here?"

His proximity, the sheer force of his suspicion, was suffocating. She couldn't let him dig any deeper. She had to get out.

She decided to fold. A strategic retreat.

"Fine. I overstepped," she said, holding up her hands in surrender. "You're clearly unhappy. The deal's off."

She turned, making a move for the door. "I'll wire the deposit back to you. Goodbye, Mr. Stanley."

She had to leave. Now. Before Brodie came back.

Joshua's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her arm like a manacle. He yanked her back from the door.

"You want to leave?" he snarled, a flicker of something-anger, confusion-in his eyes.

Her reaction made no sense. One minute, she was bold enough to kiss him in front of his brother. The next, she was a terrified animal bolting for the exit.

Why? Because he'd questioned her about a kiss? Or was it because of... Brodie?

The thought was absurd. He dismissed it instantly. They couldn't possibly know each other.

"Let go of me!" Avery tried to wrench her arm free. "This is what you want, isn't it? Your 'unsuitable' girlfriend is leaving on her own."

A humorless laugh escaped him. "The agreement has commenced. You don't get to decide when it ends. Do you think you can just walk in and out of the Stanley family as you please?"

He couldn't let her go. Not now. Not after introducing her as his fiancée. If she vanished now, he would be the family's new laughingstock. His plan was just beginning. He wouldn't let this woman derail it.

"I quit!" Avery hissed, her voice tight with a panic she could no longer hide.

Her desperation only fueled his suspicion.

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze sweeping over her pale, strained face. "What are you so afraid of, Avery?"

He used her first name for the first time. The sound of it, spoken in that low, questioning tone, sent a fresh wave of fear through her.

Joshua's question hung in the air between them, sharp and heavy. "What are you so afraid of?"

Avery forced herself to meet his gaze, to inject a believable dose of scorn into her voice. "What am I afraid of? I'm afraid of whatever insane game you rich people are playing. I'm clearly out of my league."

It was the perfect excuse. Vague enough, plausible enough.

"The way your brother looked at me... it was like he wanted to kill me," she added, letting a shiver run through her for effect. It wasn't hard to fake. "I signed up to make some money, not to get myself murdered."

Joshua's expression softened almost imperceptibly. He had seen his brother's face. Her fear was, for once, logical.

But he still couldn't let her go.

"This game, as you call it, ends when I say it ends." He released her arm but moved to block the door, a human wall between her and freedom.

"I'll pay the penalty for breach of contract," Avery insisted, her voice rising. "Double, if you want."

He actually laughed at that, a short, contemptuous sound. "Penalty? You think I care about your money?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I need you, Ms. Hopkins. You are now my fiancée. And you will play your part."

"I refuse," she bit out.

His eyes went cold. "You don't have the right to refuse."

He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a checkbook and a sleek Montblanc pen.

With a few quick, angry strokes, he wrote, then tore the check from the book with a sharp rip. He held it out to her.

"What's this?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

"A bonus," Joshua said. "Five hundred thousand dollars. It's yours when you see this through to the end."

Avery's breath caught. Her gaze dropped to the number written on the check. $500,000.

The number echoed in her mind. It was a lifeline. It was the key that could unlock every cage she was in. It was a solution to problems he could never imagine.

On one side of the scale was Brodie, a known and terrifying danger. On the other was half a million dollars. Freedom.

Joshua saw the flicker in her eyes. The hesitation. The internal war.

He had found her price.

He pressed the check into her hand. Her fingers were ice-cold against his.

"Take it," he commanded. "And do your job."

The flimsy piece of paper felt like a lead weight in her palm. It was the price of her safety, her sanity.

She looked from the check up to his cold, determined face.

She was trapped.

"Fine," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll stay."

A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. He had won. He had her.

But the memory of her kiss, the violation of his rules, still stung. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by the familiar icy mask.

"But you will remember the rules," he said, his voice sharp. "You do not touch me. Not a single finger. Not without my permission."

He didn't wait for a reply. He turned on his heel and walked toward the living room, leaving her standing alone in the grand foyer, clutching her golden shackles.

Joshua led her into a living room that looked more like a museum gallery. His parents, William and Catherine Stanley, were seated on a silk sofa, their expressions carved from ice.

The meeting was brief and brutal. Joshua announced their engagement with a defiant pride that was clearly for his father's benefit. William's face turned a dangerous shade of purple. Catherine's smile became a thin, brittle line of disappointment.

Avery played her part, a nervous but determined girl from the wrong side of the tracks, all while her senses were screaming, scanning every shadow for Brodie.

He never appeared.

When the excruciating interview was over, Joshua decided to drive his point home. In front of his disapproving parents and the silent staff, he swept Avery up into his arms.

She let out a small gasp of surprise.

"Part of the show," he whispered against her ear, his breath warm. His arms were like steel bands around her.

He carried her up the sweeping grand staircase as if she weighed nothing, his face a perfect mask of a man in love.

He pushed open the door to a lavish guest suite and gently deposited her on the king-sized bed. The mattress was so soft she sank into it.

"You'll stay here tonight. My room is next door. Call if you need anything."

And then he was gone. The door clicked shut, leaving her in a silence that was more deafening than the family's arguments.

Avery collapsed back onto the pillows, her body trembling with delayed shock. The last few hours felt like a lifetime.

She pushed herself off the bed and surveyed her gilded cage. Her gaze swept past the ornate furniture and landed on a set of French doors leading to a small, private balcony. One of the doors was slightly ajar, letting in a sliver of the cool night air. She chalked it up to careless housekeeping and turned her attention to the en-suite bathroom, a vision of white marble and gold fixtures.

She needed a shower. She needed to wash the entire day off of her. Wash him off of her.

She walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, but didn't bother to lock it. She was alone, finally.

She turned on the hot water, and steam quickly filled the room, fogging the mirrors. She shed her dress, letting it pool on the floor, and was about to step into the glass-walled shower.

Click.

It was a small sound. The distinct, final sound of a lock turning in the bathroom door.

Avery's heart seized. A cold fist of terror clenched in her gut. She spun around.

He was leaning against the now-locked door, a tall, dark silhouette in the steam. A ghost conjured from her worst nightmares.

Brodie.

His eyes were black holes, bottomless pits of a cold, simmering rage.

"You can't run from me, Avery," he rasped, his voice a gravelly whisper that scraped against her raw nerves.

She scrambled backward, her bare feet slipping on the slick marble, until her back hit the cold glass of the shower wall. There was nowhere else to go.

She crossed her arms over her naked body, a futile gesture of defense. "How... how did you get in here?" she stammered.

A cold, dead smile touched his lips. "You think I left? That little tantrum on the lawn? That was just for show. A little misdirection to make my little brother think I was gone. To make you let your guard down."

He pushed off the door, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her.

"The moment you set foot in this house, you were my prey."

He advanced on her, and the steamy, enclosed space of the bathroom seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. His presence was suffocating, a physical pressure against her skin.

She tried to scream, but the sound died in her throat, strangled by fear.

He stopped directly in front of her. His hand shot out, not to hit her, but to wrap around her throat. His fingers were cold, his grip not tight enough to choke, but firm enough to be a promise. An assertion of absolute, terrifying control.

He leaned in, his face inches from hers, his dead eyes boring into hers.

"Tell me," he whispered, his voice a venomous caress. "How did it feel to kiss my brother?"